A Stange New Galaxy
by Got mercy
Summary: After firing off a ancient torpedo to test what it the torpedo turns into a portal and it sucks a small fleet of ships into it taking them to a unknown galaxy. Reviews and comments welcome.
1. Chapter 1 Introduction

**HI! Got mercy here! This is my first story. I have used ideas from multiple other writers .Please criticize me for any mistakes made or anything I have done wrong. Please enjoy!**

Sender: Lord General Varion

Recipient: Colonel Kastor

Your regiment, the Fareth 12th, as well as 3 other regiments as well as a fleet consisting of _The Emperors Hammer _a Retribution class Battleship, 2 Gothic class Cruisers_ Lord Valmont _and _The Firestorm_, 2 Dauntless class Frigates _The Crusader _and _The Reaper,_ and 2 Cobra class Destroyers _The Bloodied _and _The Dagger. _The 4 regiments will be aboard _The Emperors Hammer._

This force has been selected to take part in the attack against an amassing Chaos fleet in the Klarian system that has plans to try and take Agrathia which is in the Frarian system. This planet used to be an ancient forge world lost in the Age of Strife that has miraculously not been claimed by anyone before our arrival 4 years ago. On this planet I am sure you have heard about the discoveries the techpriests have made here. So far four STC templates in perfect condition have been found making improved weapons for our troops. Magos Refrious has estimated that that there could be at least three more STC templates on this planet. Due to the importance of this planet we have sent a larger force than necessary to ensure victory. There is also some ancient weaponry on this planet that would be useful to test on the Archenemy. The Emperor protects.


	2. Chapter 2

Griffon Kastor put down his data slate with a sigh. They had just finished three months of city fighting with a heretical cult and they had been promised at least a week of rest time for the troops. Well, on the bright side at least it look like there will only be space combat Kastor thought. He handed the data slate over to his regiments Commissar Veir Revious who was sitting next to him in his quarters. Veir quickly scanned over the data slate before handing it back to Griffon and stood up.

"This will cause some problems with the men but not too much." Said Veir "These men know their line of work I'll keep complaints to the minimum."

"Hey could you do me a favor and tell the captain to reroute the ship to the Agrathia in the Frarian system, that's where the fleet is gathering. I need to type up some messages before we get there"

"Sure" He responded. He spoke with an augmented and raspy voice due to damage done to his vocal cords from a bayonet. Veir is a tall, well-built man with black hair and a dark brown eye. He also has a bionic arm from when a hot shot round took it off at the right shoulder, a bionic right leg, half his left jaw was replaced, with steel teeth showing, and a bionic left eye from a piece of shrapnel that left a scar that starts at the forehead and ends at the left cheek. Griffon was of average height and build had brown hair and bluish greyish eyes standard for a native of Fareth.

Veir walked to the door pressed a button on a panel and the door hissed as it opened revealing he long grey corridors of the transport ship _The Revest _which was currently drafted to transport the Fareth 12th which is mostly comprised of infantry that were renowned for their ability to fight well in any combat environment from desert plains to snowy cities they were good at what they did.

Veir walked down the hallway. He knew that Griffon had a lot on his plate. His troops suffered a large amount of casualties when Corrupted PDF troopers detonated bombs in the barracks. Griffon blames himself for not posting enough guards but it wasn't his fault Veir thought. There was no reason to think that the PDF were corrupt. Pretty much all cult activity before the siege on the capital was in a small city on the coast and there was a very limited PDF presence there.

At the door to the bridge a fuming lieutenant was walking angrily down the cramped hallway and bumped into me before muttering an apology. When I walked onto a bridge a lieutenant was being promoted to commander. The captain noticed me walk in and spoke."Ah, Commissar how can I assist you? We were promoting young Vern here and it appears that someone did not approve of my decision of who to promote."

"Yes captain it seems that we have to change our course to the Frarian system" Spoke Veir.

"What!" His voice sounded incredulous.

"I apologize for the problems this may cause sir but there is an immediate threat in a system nearby and is imperative that we get there." Spoke Veir in a serious but polite tone.

"Problems! The only reason I let you and your shit covered soldiers on board is because it was on the way to our destination!" The captain spoke angrily.

"Captain you were not asked to do this you were drafted." Anger crept into Veir's voice.

"He sneered at me and said "You stupid Imperials this is my business you're ruining! Maybe if you had the slightest bit of smarts you would know what you filthy soldiers are doing!" His face was red with rage.

Veir had enough of it; he pulled out his bolter ad readied at his side "If you try to deny your services to the Emperor and his armies Imperial Law decrees that I must give the denier a summary execution!" Veir's words rushed angrily from his mouth. "Is this what you want!"

His face reddened. "Fine!" he yelled childishly and turned away. He then proceeded to bark unnecessary orders at the crew on the bridge in order to stop the crew from getting any ideas. Veir walked out of the bridge and to his quarters to sleep.

Veir sat up quickly and grabbed his bolt pistol. Someone was banging on the door. He swung his legs over onto the hard metal floors and placed his bolt pistol back on his desk. Then he swung his greatcoat over his shoulders. "CALM DOWN I'M COMING!" He yelled but as the banging continued as he pulled on his greatcoat over his resting clothes his face turned into a sneer. With his greatcoat on he opened the door and was about to say something to annoying trooper when he realized the trooper was holding his lasrifle and the butt of his rifle had made contact with his head.

Veir mind woke but he feigned unconsciousness. He was bound to a chair with rope with his arms tied around the back. Not the first time this has happened Veir thought. He could hear two men arguing loudly but it sounded like whispers from the pounding headache.

"What did you do!" said one trooper incredulous.

"What does it look like!" said the other as if annoyed.

"You kidnapped a commissar do you know what's going to happen to us!" replied the trooper in shock.

"Nothing is going to happen because I am going to kill this bastard!" he responded exasperated.

"For killing Mariff? Mariff was a coward, he deserved to die!" He yelled back.

"You take that back you bastard!" the surprised trooper said.

"NO! You have taken this too far if you just take him back to his room now no one will ever know what happened!" the other trooper said.

There was a thump and the other trooper fell to the floor with a cry. It did not end there.

"THAT'S!"

THUMP

"PLEASE STOP!"

"FOR!"

THUMP

"PLEASE!"

THUMP

"MARIFF!"

"STOP PLE-"

CRACK

There was a sound that was like an egg cracking and the screams became quiet. The only sound was the trooper's panting. After a few seconds the trooper walked over to Veir grabbed him by the hair and lifted Veir's head up. "You bastard!" the trooper's voice was shaking with rage. "You are going to pay for what you have done!" Veir opened a small compartment in his bionic arm which contained a small knife. He took and slowly started cutting at the rope.

The trooper took a knife from his belt. He looked at the knife feeling the weight of it in his hands. Suddenly the knife found itself stuck inside Veir's belly. Veir Grimaced as the pain was excruciating but he would show no pain to this fool he thought, instead he smiled at the trooper. The trooper was astonished by this and quickly took the knife from my belly, causing blood to spill freely, and prepared to stab again but before he could Veir cut off the last of the rope that bound him and then he jabbed him in his side with the knife. Caught off guard the trooper staggered backward while making wild slash at him with his knife. Veir side stepped his attack and dug his knife into his neck and quickly pulled it out and stepped back. The trooper dropped the knife and both his hands came up around his neck to slow the blood flow. As Veir stepped back he slipped on the floor slick with blood and his head banged on the chair knocking him unconscious. The trooper's back slammed against the wall and he slide down into a sitting position. One and a half minutes later the trooper choked to death on his own blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Kastor inspected the scene. Veir's was limp but not dead body was being carried by two guardsmen and was heading to the regiments chief medic. Two other bodies were here; Corsin's and Gron's. The maintenance closets floor was covered in blood. He would have to give his boots a good cleaning after he left. After Veir's body was removed two indentured workers arrived with mops, sponges, and body bags with one trooper who stood guard at the door.

"Trooper Klaks do you know what problem Corsin and Gron had with Veir?" inquired Kastor.

"Huh? Oh, Corsin was Mariff"s brother and I think Gron and Corsin are-" He looked at the bodies, "Were close." Replied the trooper.

Kastor stomped Corsin's head in with the heel of his boot splattering brain matter on the surprised trooper's uniform. The workers now splattered in gore continued to clean the floor. "Bastard" He muttered under his breath. With that Griffon left the maintenance closet leaving a trail of bloody footprints leading to his sleeping quarters.

"You hear what happened to the Commissar?" spoke trooper Trask Lep. Trooper Anslo Barr turned away from his terrible meal consisting protein mush, carbo bread, and (literal) vitamin water and faced Trask who was sitting next to him in the mess hall.

"What happened?" replied Anslo protein mush still inside his mouth.

"One of the psychos from Fen's squad tried to kill the Commissar! It was Mariff's brother!" he said excitedly.

"How many times has this someone tried to kill Revious?" Anslo said nonchalantly then thought for a moment, "Twelve times?"

"Really!?" said Trask in amazement, "He must be really tough!"

"He is I've seen him fight." replied Anslo.

Anslo knew this number to most likely be wrong. This stuff was so commonplace that it started to bore him. He knew no trooper could kill the Commissar. Veir is a tough bastard. Anslo also knew that Trask was young and was green behind the ears. Anslo knew himself to be fairly young, but he knew more about the horrors of combat than most. Trask was one of the newcomers they got after that wretched bombing. They were either Verthian PDF or civilians who volunteered to help the PDF. Trask was neither he was some noble's son whose father just wanted to get rid of him so he filled his head with the "glories" it was to serve the Emperor in combat. All Trask knew of war is what his father said, what the recruitment officer said, and war holos. Trask was basically a child. He would soon know thought Anslo. He smiled sadly.

"What are you smiling about?" spoke Trask brimming with energy.

He would soon learn the truth.

A boy sat with his father. The boy watched in amazement as his father turned logs into magnificent pieces of art. So beautiful that they just could not be called "furniture". The boy watched him craft for hours on end. On the last piece of wood the father made a box. It was a simple box, ugly compared to the beauty of his other creations. It was dark brown, smooth to the touch with curved edges, and had silver hinges. When he finished it he left the room. When the father returned there was a small silver lock on it and a small key in his other hand. The father handed the boy the box and the key and spoke to him.

"Within this box is something of great importance." the father spoke quietly but serious, "In here is something that you must open when you are lost in unknown lands." He paused for a moment debating. " Your mother told me to do this" He sighed, "That was before the black ships took her away." He looked down, his eyes started to water, "She also said that this is the last thing I would make." the father looked down, "You can remember us by this box." The father spoke sadly. Why did his father give him such an ugly box wondered the boy. What is in the box. What was his father talking about, "The last thing he would ever make." Nonsense after he defeated the emperor's enemies, like he always did, he would be back to craft some more. The boy had many questions. All of which were left unanswered.

The next day the father was shipped off to war to fight bravely for the emperor against humanities greatest enemies. He never came back. When he heard the news he instantly hated the box. The boy thought if his father had never made the box then he would have lived. The boy wanted to break the box, to burn it, to throw it away, and never see it ever gain but for some strange reason he did not. He could not bring himself to break it, to burn it, to throw it away. So he kept it. It may have been at the bottom of a bag, or under his bed but it was still there, throughout his life reminding him.

Veir opened his eyes. He was in an infirmary. A machine on a table next to him was making steady beeps. His adjutant Lyffer Resno was sitting on a stool next to him tapping away at his data slate.

"How long was I out?" asked Veir.

"Three days" responded Lyffer without looking away from his data got out of bed ignoring the pain, stretched his legs, put on his uniform, and walked out with Lyffer trailing behind him.

A lasbolt smacked against the rockcrete barrier Trooper Barr was taking cover behind sending dust and small chunks of rockcrete flying in all directions. Beside him Commissar Revious kneeled, readying himself to charge. After the barrage of lasbolts ended Veir lept over the barrier with a Boltpistol in his left hand, eviscerator chainsword in his right which he was capable of wielding from his enhanced strength due to his cybernetic replacements. He fired a burst of bolt rounds at the heretics killing one and putting the others into cover. He lept over the Heretics cover and swung the massive two-handed chainsword one-handed cutting one Cultist from shoulder to the waist. He spun around felling a heretic charging at him with a bayonet attached to his lasgun with two shots in quick succession with his Boltgun. He turned towards the last heretic who was a corrupted PDF major. The heretic lunged at him with a knife in his right hand. Veir sidestepped the heretic with ease and cut of the heretics arm at the elbow with a single powerful stroke of his chainsword. The heretic howled with rage and pain and tried to swing at Veir with his left arm only to find a Boltpistol aimed at his head. Veir fired it obliterating the man's entire head leaving his neck squirting blood where the head should be.

"Thats for the bombings you piece of shit" Veir said with quiet rage and spat blood on the corrupted PDF major's corpse and ran off to fight more Chaos scum.


	4. Chapter 4

_War in System Quadraya_

_By Griss Reford_

_Chapter 6: Planet Citar_

_Part 4: Invasion of Therin Hive led by Warlord Caphra Shrever_

_Three Chaos warships were to arrive at the relatively small planet Citar carrying 150,000 Chaos soldiers. The Warmaster in the sector deemed it necessary to send two regiments of Imperial Guard; The Fareth 12__th__ and the Vestrian 3__rd__ to fortify and hold the planets hive city Therin and a group of small farming and mining settlements past the mountain ranges where the land had fertile land and forests. When the Imperial Guard came they landed in Therin. Once all the troops had arrived 10,000 troops from the Fareth 12__th__ were sent by air to defend the outer settlement. Unknown by the Imperials however the Chaos Warlord sent an advanced party of 60,000 troops to secure and defend a landing zone and to ambush any incoming Imperials. The Imperials took heavy losses losing over 6,000 men to anti air guns. Once landed the remnants of the defending force discovered that most of the outer settlements had been wiped out. The remains of the defending force retreated into forests where took refuge from artillery and aerial bombing in a mining camp underground in the tunnels where they a found a skeleton crew of miners due to most of them leaving to volunteer for the PDF. With the commanding officer dead and their communications jammed Commissar Veir Revious took command of what remained .With an excess of food through hydroponics they did guerilla raids and bombings continuously for months making the raids smaller and smaller tricking them into thinking that the artillery bombardments were thinning their numbers. Then after one artillery strike they stopped raiding. Thinking the Imperial's in the forest were all dead Chaos forces prepared themselves for the incoming reinforcements which would arrive in two weeks. Using the time they had strategically placed explosives with the help of the miners on the incredibly steep mountains surrounding the valley which was the only way to get through the mountains on foot. They also created a trench encampment at the exit of the valley to kill off any surviving chaos troops. Warlord Caphra Shrever himself joined the march to Therin with 210,000 troops. When they detonated the explosives the ensuing rockslides killed over 170,000 of the archenemies troops. The surviving 40,000 troops which mainly consisted of the basic crazed cultists 250-750 of them were mortar crew. The ensuing battle ended with both sides being completely slaughtered. The only known surviving Imperial guard was three guardsmen and the Commissar. The dead as well as the living both were commended and given medals for their bravery personally by Lord-General Varion. It is unknown whether the Warlord Caphra survived._

Anslo sat in his bunk polishing his Long-Las with a rag. Above him Trask was watching some war holo on the top bunk. When Anslo was satisfied with shine of the rifle he put it back into its carrying bag. He then laid down on his bed. He could hear the gunfire of Trask's war holo. He closed his eyes

Explosions detonated around him as his entrenched position was bombarded by mortars. He was further back in the trenches so he could supply sniper support to the men the front lines. Dirt flew everywhere as the shells exploded around him. One shell savagely eviscerated an unlucky fellow named Desg about twenty feet away from him who he had a pleasant chat with over a cup of recaff which was now spilled all over Anslo's uniform. The bombardment stopped to Anslo's delight which only lasted for a few seconds because it gave way to a massive horde of oncoming chaos soldiers who fired indiscriminate bursts of autogun fire and the occasional lasgun fire as well into the imperial guard trench line. The imperial guard returned fire sending a wave of red beams of energy, and steel cased bolter rounds into the frenzied horde of chaos. Anslo aimed his Long-Las and rested it onto the bipod to prevent sway and fired random shots into the heads of the incoming soldiers never missing his mark.

As he fired his rifle an incredible high filled him. This was the only joy of war. Better than any drug or drink, he felt amazing as autogun rounds thumped the dirt around him while taking the heads off any soldier unfortunate enough to be seen through the lens of his Long-Las.

The mass of chaos reached the first trench line and poured in though. The ones first in line were decimated by a mine field that was only ten feet away from the trench. As the oncoming horde finished the first trench line Anslo prepared himself in the fourth and final line. Anslo affixed his bayonet at the end of his Long-Las and held his gun like a spear as the horde which was slowly but surely being decreased in population came closer him. Anslo's high increasing as they neared him. When they began pouring into his trench his high reached its pinnacle. He was filled with ecstasy as he desperately chopped, gutted, skewered, sliced, and ripped everything that came at him laughing madly at the insanity of his predicament and the pure happiness of his high.

His high abruptly ended causing him to enter reality again and he realized he was stabbing the already dead chaos soldier in front of him repeatedly. He pulled out his blade from the body and got out of the trench.

Anslo surveyed the scene of the slaughter that decimated both sides and reality of the situation hit him like a bolt round hitting unarmored flesh would. Anslo was soaked from head to toe in blood and Viscera. He was covered in cuts, scraps, burns, and bruises. Around him massive heaps of bodies both chaos and imperial littered the battlefield. The first trench line as literally filled with shredded, fetid bodies. Anslo started shaking, but not from the cold, the blood that covered him was warm. Anslo fell to his knees trembling violently.

"Hello?" Anslo spoke quietly, his voice trembling.

Anslo took a few seconds to calm himself and stood up. He was getting better at this Anslo thought to himself. He was getting much better at it.

"Hello!" Anslo yelled more confident in his ability to speak.

"Here!" A voice answered.

Anslo could see two bloodied guardsmen climbing out of a trench carrying an unrecognizable heavily brutalized body between them. Anslo ran as fast as his injured legs could go and reached the men fairly quickly. When he was near he was surprised to see it was the commissar being carried.

"Clear a space for us!" yelled one of the troopers who had a white shoulder pad with the red symbol of a medicae trooper.

Anslo quickly started moving bodies away to make space. The medic tossed him a blanket roll.

"Roll it out!"

Anslo rolled the blanket over the blood soaked dirt and then the medic carefully laid the commissars bleeding body onto it. The medic tore open the remains of the commissar ragged, bloodied, and torn uniform open revealing an uncountable number of gashes and cuts and the biggest of which was a ten inches long , and two inches deep slash across his belly. He had also lost an arm and a leg. Anslo knew he should be putting pressure on the wounds, but there were far too many of them for it to have any positive affects other than getting in the way of the medic.

First the medic poured out his entire canteen of water onto him then he took out a bottle of disinfectant alcohol and poured three-fourths of the bottle onto the commissar's chest, leg and arm. Then he took a syringe from his pack and injected the commissar with a drug that clotted blood. Next he took out his las-pistol and shot the commissar's stumps at such an angle that it cauterized the wound but took of as little flesh as possible. Then the medic took out multiple bundles of bandages and thickly wrapped them from his waist to his armpit. Anslo could faintly see red seeping through the bandages. After the commissars many chest wounds were dressed he started to clean and bandage the remaining wounds on his arm and leg with the help of Anslo and the other soldier.

With his work completed the medic held out his hand said,

"My names field medic Sid Riggs Third Platoon, Squad three."

Anslo clasped Sid's hand and shook it.

"I'm Sergeant Ceff Tridlo Third Platoon, Squad three."

Ceff offered his hand as well so Anslo shook it.

The three men sat there in silence until a Vendetta gunship scouting the area spotted them and picked them up.


	5. Chapter 5

**People of the internets please comment/review my story that is all.**

Inquisitor Raven Grath put down his data slate. What he read interested him greatly. He would have to go and see it for himself. He got up from his captain's chair.

"Zareth we have a new destination."

"Where shall I set course my lord Inquisitor?"

"We head to Agrathia."

With that the Inquisitor sat back into his chair and waited for his ship to enter the warp.

Jedi Knight Elmin Sett sat in his quarters meditating. His mind was at rest. A vision disturbed the peace. It was of something massive exiting a portal. They were ships massive ships! Inside the ships were filled with millions of souls. The beings aboard these vessels were filled with hate, so much hate! Meeting beings with such a large capacity of hate terrified him. He could see their massive ships bring destruction down upon worlds killing millions. Then the most horrifying he saw a ship crack open a planet and destroyed the planets core effectively killing the entire planet.

Elmin opened his eyes. He was shivering but it was not cold in his room. Was what he had seen part of the separatists? Or were they from somewhere else? Whatever this vision foretold it troubled him and it was obvious that whatever they were they could deal a lot of harm.

Elmin's padawan Trip Shapris ran into his quarters, his face pale and was about to speak when he saw the grave expression on his master's face.

"Did you have the vision of the ships too?" spoke Trip.

"I did." Elmin responded.

"We should tell the Jedi council master, if what we saw is real then we must inform them of this unknown danger."

"I will send a message to the council, and then I will inform the Commodore."

After Elmin sent his message he walked over to the bridge with his padawan.

Commodore Carth Farelli sat in the captain's chair of his Venerator-class ship and inspected the history of each of the thirty-six ships that were in his squadron on his data pad. They were sent to defend the backwater planet Freltan that had just in time declared their allegiance to the Republic when a separatist fleet came to the system. Just before his ship came out of hyperspace his fleet had just destroyed an advanced droid party consisting of two ships that were sent to make a beachhead. The two separatist ships were halfway through the departure of troop ships when we arrived.

This was his fleet as he liked to call it because calling it a squadron was just stupid. As he read his data pad troop ships were disembarking from the mother ships being sent down to the planet's surface to defend the planets major city where all the inhabitants had gone to take refuge from the incoming assault for that was the only city with any defensive walls and weapon emplacements. Commodore Farelli was just promoted a few weeks ago and was on his biggest mission so far; and his first taste of fleet combat that was to come.

Carth sat in his command chair looking at the fleet he was in command of daydreaming of space combat when the Jedi and his padawan entered. He quickly got out of his chair and walked briskly across the bridge to greet the two men.

"Jedi Knight Elmin and padawan Trip a pleasure; what is it that you require."

Elmin had met the Commodore before; he was a younger man and whom he had little experience in command but he seemed confident and competent (A little too confident in his opinion.)

Elmin wanted to bring the news carefully to Carth's attention so as to not try and rattle the young fellow's morale.

"How goes the troop landing and dispersal?"

"Well, we have landed 25,000 units so far and plan we plan to unload the full 200,000 along with the vehicles in two days. The fortifications for the city is going well, we have set up many defensive chokepoints in the many key parts of the city and plan to finish them in.." he looked at his data pad, "three days."

"Very good it looks like your running a quick and clean operation."

Carth felt gratified by the Jedi's complement and he showed it with a smile. Trip was confused at what Elmin was doing so he sent Elmin a look that said _tell him!_

"Carth I am afraid that I am the bearer of bad news."

What could it be Carth thought?

"My padawan and I both had a vision of massive ships carrying millions of people with the firepower to destroy planets entering our system. I have sent a message to the Jedi council and I had hoped to learn your opinion on the matter."

What? Carth Thought, Visions? He chuckled.

"Why should we worry your visions, they are just dreams and we have no information about the separatist building ships with the size and crew that you say of with the firepower to destroy worlds! The only feasible way to explain their existence is if the separatists have been constructing these ships from day one and they were crewed by very cheap droids, but I cannot explain where they got this firepower or the money because this is an overpriced expenditure!"

Elmin was surprised. He was surprised of his knowledge of the matters he spoke of as well as his disregard of his warning. Oh well, he could not convince him that his visions were true from lack of evidence but he could get help from the council to prepare for whatever may happen. Some may just call that lazy but in reality he was just avoiding a conflict that he could not win to the stubborn Carth. Jedi Knight Elmin Sett walked back to his quarters ignoring his padawan's complaints about why he had just "let the matter go."

On the surface Sergeant Boxhead lead his squad into the forest that his squad was sent to scout for the droids that had landed in this approximate area. They were one of the many scouting parties sent. They had dispersed themselves in "Diamond" scouting formation so that they had the maximum view of their environment. Next to him was Corporal 27. In the front were Rusher, Treekiller or TK, and 38. On the right is Hunch and 87. On the left is Itchy and 39 and in the back were Overkill or OK and Twig. Overkill was aptly named due to his insistence on bringing Z-6 rotary blaster cannon. The troopers were chatting casually but still quietly to their scouting partners since the chance of encountering enemies was very small but still a chance. Boxhead checked his carbine once and a while since nothing much was going on. Thinking about how not soldierly that Rushers behavior was. Their boring walk quickly changed.

In the front Rusher was laughing to a joke TK had made so hard he had to take his helmet off. 38 was irritated about how loud he was and was rightly so when a blaster bolt impacted his head removing his forehead and leaving a blackened smoking crater.

"CONTA-GAHHH" screamed TK when a Blaster bolt hit him square in the chest knocking him into the tree behind him clutching the cauterized hole uselessly. 38 ran to a tree for cover. The rest of the squad moved closer into a position where they could return fire from cover. In cover 38 peeked out for a second then quickly moved his head back into cover as blaster bolts impacted the tree sending splinters flying and scorching the wood. It may have been a second but he saw them. Twelve B1's and three B2'slowly walking towards them and avoiding cover in usual droid fashion 30 feet away. OK ran to the front lugging his blaster cannon and stopped 50 feet away and sent a barrage of bolts cutting down three B1's. To his right he heard a scream and when he looked he saw that 87 took one bolt to the chest and one to the head. 38 got out of cover to fire when a blaster bolt landed right next to his left foot making him jump backwards and onto his bottom. A blaster bolt from the left killed a B2 and a few bolts from the right downed three B1's. From his sitting position 38 fired off three rounds downing a B2 with two shots while getting a headshot on a B1 with the third. Another burst of bolts came from OK's Blaster cannon killing the last B2 and 2 B1's.

In the time took to get this far the droids were on him. He stood up and held his DC-15A like a club and whacked the first droid he saw in the chest till it fell to the ground then he stomped its head in. He turned to the next droid and saw its weapon aimed at him. He charged forward and the droid fired its blaster hitting him in the shoulder. While his plastoid armor took the brunt of the damage but it still hurt like hell. When he was on him he bashed the droids head in till it snapped off and flew into the distance from the force of his swing. The third droid had expected him and as he came to swing the droid back stepped so he missed entirely. Then the droid grabbed him by the throat and lifted him. 38's hands came up to try and pry off the droids hands to no affect. The only thought that went through his mind was how were these paper thin Clankers so strong even though he had been briefed on them in Basic as he was deprived of oxygen.

Boxhead aimed his carbine and looked through the sights at the droid. He fired and the shot fired to true to its target and smacked the droid in the chest forcing it to drop 38 and to stagger back into a tree. Ok brought his lady love, the infamous blaster cannon to bear; pointed at the remaining droid and he held down the trigger squeezing off just over 50 shots completely decimating the droids chest.

"Damn Clankers" spoke OK in one of the rare times OK speaks.

Boxhead jogged to the front and inspected the seen. Rusher's head was a smoking crater 87 took one to the head and chest. TK was weakly moaning as Hunch smeared bacta salve over the still smoking cauterized hole in his chest. 38 was clutching his weakened wounded shoulder

Boxhead tapped the comm bead in the side of his helmet.

"Command we encountered what I assume is a scouting party we took two casualties and have two wounded; one serious one minor, requesting further orders."

"Good job boys come back to base bring the dead with you, we will send a few more squads to scout the remainder of your area." A pause, "You boys did good, showed those damned clankers there place."

Boxhead turned to face his men who had gathered behind him.

"We got orders from above to go back to base, Hunch help TK, 39 grab 87, and Twig get Rush." Boxhead paused for a moment and looked down at the two dead. "Poor bastards." He looked back at his men, "You guys did good, let's go!" The unit dispersed.

Boxhead faced 38 but was looking at his feet.

"Jumper" he spoke.

"What?" replied 38 confused.

"Your name, that's it or at least what it should be."

"Huh" replied Jumper nonplussed.


	6. Chapter 6

**ECH. This chapter** **was not very good. I kind of rushed this one out. Hopefully next week's chapter will be better.**

Sender: Captain Gerin Thrun of the Claymore class Corvette _The Burning Sword_

Recipient: Lord General Varion

Lord General I am displeased to inform you that the size of the Archenemies fleet has grown in size. Their fleet has taken an influx of three more cruisers, five more escorts, and 2 more battleships to a fleet of four ten escorts, six cruisers, and three battleships. Our fleet disposition is now currently unable to take on a battle group of this size. Lord General I urge you to ask for reinforcements from any other neighboring fleets that are not currently engaged now. I personally sent requests and if you permit them they will come to assist us.

Message end

Commissar Revious sat in his quarters staring at his personal bag that sat in the corner of the room tempting him to open it. He checked his chrono. The small silver device that was strapped to his wrest read five twenty-two. Revious could not sleep. His right arm itched. Veir look at his machine arm that he received in the beginning of his career.

Twenty-two years and three months ago Veir had been promoted to commissar. He was still fairly young. Only in his late forties while his mentor was one-hundred and seventy-six when Veir last saw the man. His mentor probably had another twenty to thirty years left in him. He was probably back on Trevus teaching orphans like himself in the Schola Progenium. Or his old mentor was dead, but that line of thought disturbed Veir so he quickly got it out of his head.

Veir stood up. He heard the motors whirr as they turned. His adamantium leg moved smoothly as he walked to the duffel bag. He grabbed the hefty bag and carried it with ease with his machine arm and placed it on his desk. Veir opened the bag. Within was a mess containing books, clothes, and other assorted personal items filled the bag. These things were not what he was looking for. He reached his arm into the bag and gripped it. He pulled it out. The power sword his mentor gave to him was in his hands; sheathed in very nice, high quality leather. He slowly pulled out the sword gripping the intricately detailed hilt lightly as if it was fine china. The centuries old sword's blade shined as if it was just forged. The golden hilt had intricate carvings and on the blade numerous prayers and other writings were inscribed on this magnificent blade. This blade was his dueling blade; with it he only killed the greatest of foes with it. He may have been an excellent swordsmen but he needed practice. Veir sheathed the beautiful blade and attached it to his belt. He would train.

Boxhead sat in the makeshift tent that served as a barracks just outside the forest. Another scouting squad picked up where Boxhead's squad left off and found heavy droid activity. He watched a LAAT/c pick up an AT-TE and lift off over the forest. He saw another LAAT coming towards them from the opposite direction of an Acclamator class assault ship in low orbit.

His comm crackled into existence.

"Your LAAT should be arriving any second."

"Got that; see it in the horizon."

The LAAT slowed down as it came and hovered downward.

"Alright squad it's time to go!"

Boxhead and his squad ran to the LAAT and when the sliding doors opened he ran in to make room for the two other squads to squeeze in after them. When they were all packed in the gunship the sliding doors closed and the ship took off. The first twenty minutes of the flight was the occasional idle chat and silence. Then things became ploin shaped.

Jumper stood in the red glow of the ships lighting and with his left hand he held onto a metal bar that was attached to the ceiling to steady himself while holding his DC-15A in his right. From the view port he saw ten other gunships carrying either walkers or troops but he knew that there were plenty more he could not see. Then a bolt of red energy impacted the front of an LAAT/i closest to them causing the ship to careen downward into the trees. Multiple other ships took impacts; some minor, some fatal.

In an instant the back part of the ships floor disappeared. Jumper dropped his rifle and held onto the bar with both hands straining himself as to not get sucked into the gaping hole multiple other troops did the same. He felt the gunship steadily fall downward. Jumper stared down at where the floor used to be. Jumper readied himself. Just before he dropped he yelled over his squad radio.

"LET GO!"

Jumper hit the dirt with a resounding thump. The air emptied from his chest. Pain flared through his body. He had broken a few ribs. As he tried to fill lungs with air he let out a raucous cough covering the inside of his helmet with blood. He tore the helmet off his head and threw it. Noise assaulted his ears as he took off his helmet. He surveyed the scene of destruction around him .They were in a very large clearing. About 50 meters away he saw the neat little formations of a few hundred B1 and B2 battledroids with armor support unleashing hell as they advanced upon the battered and scattered lines of infantry and armor. He tried to get up but failed when an immense pain filled his right leg. He looked at his leg. His leg was bent the wrong way and broken bone poked through the back of his knee. He flipped himself so he was facing the sky.

When and where did they get anti-air and armor support? Jumper thought hazily as pain clouded hid mind.

"FULL RETREAT, FRAKKING FULL FRAKKING RETREAT!" yelled the major over blaster fire and explosions.

Boxhead ran up to the mangled Jumper and feared the worse. He kneeled beside him. Jumpers face was contorted in pain and his breathing was slow and raspy.

"Frakk, what's broken!"

"Ughhh." Was all that the wounded Jumper could say.

An explosion detonated dangerously close to them. Boxhead took out a Bacta injector, stabbed him in the neck with it and pressed the injector putting the healing fluid into his bloodstream.

"Alright you tough frakker I'll get you back to tree line.

Boxhead turned to face his comrades.

"OK, TK, Hunch COVER ME!"

Overkill opened up with his blaster cannon while Hunch and TK fired in bursts with their rifles.

Boxhead dragged Jumper with his left arm looped around his right arm and he held his DC-15S like a pistol and fired in bursts. An AT-TE walked in front of the men to cover their escape.

It felt like ages but they were at the tree line at last. The crew of the AT-TE lept out of the walker and ran to the tree line after them.

"Alright men let's get out of here!"

**I am planning on doing the crossover by chapter ten-ish to twenty-ish. So yeah those are my plans. Planning to do a story from the view of an Ork doing it in a week or so. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Was going to write something up here but I forgot. Oh well. **

"Alright men settle down settle, HEY, yeah you! What are you, a child? Get off of that!"

The transport ship that was carrying the Fareth 12th had been ordered to wait at Nemfin so that when the Qwarven 9th so called "specialist regiment" arrived they could share a transport relieving the other one to transport some other Guard regiment. The Qwarven were said to arrive in three standard days so Griffon decided to let the troops have some R&R. They gathered inside the cargo bay of a hauler that transported them from _The Revest _that was in orbit of the the ship was only a few hundred men out of few thousand guardsmen that made up the Fareth 12th.

Veir spoke to the frustrated Griffon that stood atop a crate angrily addressing his men.

"You need me to shoot someone?"

"If it becomes necessary." He paused and looked at the crowd in front of him, "and I think it will soon"

Veir nodded at the colonel and faced the rowdy guardsmen. He scanned the front of the crowd till he saw a vox officer then he called him.

"Hey Ceryn get over here!"

The Vox officer jogged over to him.

"What do need me for?"

"Turn around."

The guardsmen looked at Veir with a confused look; thinking about what his vox caster nicknamed "Cassy" was needed for. Then the man's face turned from of confusion to understanding as he turned around. Veir grabbed the Vox phone that hung on the Castor set. He turned the set on and switched it to the speaker setting. He turned the dial that controlled volume all the way up.

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN!"

The guardsmen quieted fast.

Griffon cleared his throat.

"Alright I know you guys are excited but you have to listen. You only got three days so make it count, and if anyone has even the smallest infraction you're getting RIP duty till we get to Agrathia. Oh and one last thing... don't get too drunk."

When the doors opened hundreds of guardsmen wearing either the solid grey standard fatigues of the Fareth 12th or civilian clothes they rushed out into the small coastal city of Nemfore whooping and cheering.

Anslo opened the door to the restaurant. He had spent the entire day roaming the streets of the city seeing the sights till it was dark. He had bought himself a new chronometer. _She would have liked it. _

The establishment was quite spacious with a bar stretching across the entire left side of the room with round wooden dining tables with silk white table cloth and hand carved chairs spread throughout. The walls were a beautiful red but for some reason it made him want to vomit. The place was empty except for a bartender who was cleaning the counter with rag, two waiters standing by the door quietly chatting while taking the occasional drag of a shared Lho stick and a musician who sat in the corner playing a mysterious stringed instrument that made a comfortingly soft melody. Anslo sat down in the closest table for two and shifted the holster of his las-pistol as to make himself more comfortable.

He picked up the menu and scanned it looking to see if they would have it. A third waiter appeared from a door that probably lead to the kitchens and she walked over to him and greeted him with pleasant smile. _Just like her._

"A Grox steak."

"Coming right up sir."

The waiter walked back into the kitchen and after a moment walked out with a bottle of amasec. She placed it on his table and brought him a glass. She poured the fine red liquid into the glass till it was halfway full then placed the bottle on the table. _Her favorite._

"May I have another glass please?"

The waiter went into the kitchen briefly and returned with another cup. Without any objections she filled the cup halfway.

"Thank you."

Anslo produced a picture frame from his pocket and placed it across the table from him. He stared at the photograph. Then he tapped the cup with his own.

"Cheers."

He drained the glass.

One of the chatting waiters curious about him walked over to him and sat across from him putting her feet up on the table cross-legged dangerously close to knocking over the picture. She stared at him for a while. She took a long drag of the Lho stick and exhaled sending a puff of smoke at him then spoke.

"Never seen soldier in here before, don't think anyone has."

She was greeted with silence. The waiter leaned forward and plucked the picture off the table, looking at it curiously.

"Who's this lady? Hmm. Wanna answer or are you gonna be a wall?"

Silence was all that responded to the waiter yet again.

"Wall it is."

They sat in silence for a while.

She looked at the picture again.

"She's pretty." And she put down the photo.

She looked at the second drink then she looked back at Anslo's blank face. Seeing no objections she shrugged and downed the glass in one gulp.

"Someone I knew."

"Holy throne he talks!" genuinely surprised almost spitting out the liquid.

He smiled.

"I do."

The kitchen door opened and the waiter came out with his meal. She placed the plate down. He picked his fork and knife and sliced off a sliver of meat. He stabbed the meat with his fork and red juices were squeezed from the meat. He held the meat in front of him and looked at it and for a second and he thought he saw her bloodied and gored body swaying slowly on a rope. He gagged dropping his fork onto his plate. The womann jumped out of her chair and went over to holding his shoulders as he began to cough violently.

As his coughing died she walked back to her chair and sat back down.

"That was one hell of a coughing fit!"

"It was."

"I can tell you why you got."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes I can"

"Then tell me."

"I will"

"Alright I'm waiting"

"You… have a cold."

Anslo chuckled for the first time in a long time. He liked her Anslo decided. He liked her a lot. They talked for a while and Anslo's picture was suddenly tucked into his pocket. Anslo was enthralled in her and he didn't even know her name, not that he ever would.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello! Well, I personally was not very fond of the chapter 7. The idea seemed good when I was writing it but the more I thought about it the more it seemed… Not so good. I decided not to rewrite it. (Mostly due to laziness and time) So chapter 8 is here to kind of sweep chapter 7 under the rug.**

"Shit!" exclaimed Carth, "Are you absolutely sure of this?"

"I'm afraid so sir" his Tacticians officers replied, "Based on the estimated amount of troops and armor, around fifty-thousand, they would have to transport; the ship we surprised was one of nine."

"Nine!? Well where are the other ships?" Carth questioned.

"Well it seems that the one we destroyed just hadn't finished offloading troops when we arrived, so the others left without it." He paused. "And sir it seems that the enemy is marching to the city."

"Why? What would it serve them to waste there troops? I don't see the purpose."

"Sir, you fail to realize one very important detail."

"And what would that be?" Carth responded a little angry at the hit to his pride and stupidity at something so "major".

"There droids sir"

"So? I know that."

The Tacticians officer shuffled his feet. He was frustrated at Carth's intelligence about what seemed so obvious him.

"Sir, droids are very much expendable, they are probably here to soften up are defenses for the main force which based off our scouting reports are approximately at least three times the size of their force on the ground."

"What of the troops we sent to attack? How many casualties?"

"Out of the twenty-thousand sent we have estimated around ninety-four percent casualties."

"Shit!" he said through gritted teeth. He sighed, "Well this is going to be fun."

His first taste of command and it was all going to shit.

**A galaxy away.**

Anslo never wanted to leave her. It was the final day, he came every day. He was going to ask her to come with him.

Something inside told him otherwise. Like he would never get the chance.

They were at the restaurant. Sometimes they would talk, others they would just stare at each other. It felt as if they knew each other their whole lives.

A few hours before he was supposed to go board the ship he would ask her to leave with him.

He checked his chrono. He would ask now. He looked at her.

"I want to ask you something."

"Whatever you want." She replied, smiling coyly.

"Will you-"

THUMP.

Anslo turned in his chair. The door had been kicked open and four dirty men walked in the room. They all wore ganger tats and had auto-pistols shoved into their pants. What looked like the leader of the group carried a revolver. The leader stared at the bartender.

"My good friend, How we doin' bud." he said with false friendliness.

"Uhh… fine." The bartender replied nervously.

"Het, you know what makes curious?"

"W-w-what?"

"Why, would an owner of such a _fine_ establishment do such a menial job like bartending when he could hire someone to do it?"

"T-t-t-to sssave m-m-m-money."

"Ahh, money we will talk about the money later but first why do you need to save money? You own this fancy restaurant." He said.

"W-we-w-well you."

"Me!?" he pointed at himself, "How could I be possibly be connected?" he said with false incredulity.

"Y-y-y-you sssscare customers."

He sighed. "Well, I guess we need to talk about the money." He gave the bartender a quick taste of his fist. The bartender cried out and staggered back bringing his hands up to try and stop the flow of blood pouring out of his broken nose.

"WHERE"S MY MONEY!" and the ganger planted the cold steel of the barrel of his revolver against the man's head.

"I paid please don't, please!" the bartender said begging for his life.

Anslo pulled out his off duty las-pistol and aimed it at the leaders head.

"DON'T!"

The ganger turned, curious as to who challenged him.

"Ahh, a soldier boy and his lady friend."

The ganger walked over to Anslo until the barrel of his pistol was pressed against the gangers head.

"So cute you two, it makes me want to cry."

The ganger's empty hand swung up and gripped the barrel pushing up trying to pry it from his hands. Anslo held the weapon tight and kicked the man's knees out. He let go of the barrel and fell backwards. The leader's goons pulled out their pistols and started firing. Anslo fired twice downing one ganger with a double headshot that left his head a cauterized mess before kicking over his table, pushing her behind it and vaulting over to use it as cover as well. While he did so a bullet grazed his left shoulder and another round went clean through his right calf, but Anslo was pumped up with so much adrenaline that he hardly noticed it, let alone felt it. Behind the wooden barrier Anslo fired off two shots at random before a plan materialized in his head. He picked up the table and rushed at the men shielded from gunfire by the table. He rammed two of them sending them flattened against the ground by the table. He placed the barrel of his pistol against the wood and fired through killing one. The other ganger had recovered and pushed the table off him sending him sprawling onto his back his gun skittering away from him. The ganger leapt onto him and gripped his throat. In response Anslo sent a few awkward punches directed at the man's face which landed pushing him off him. Anslo got up and kicked the man down. He then continued to smash the man's head in with the heel of his boot till it was a mix of brains, blood, and skull bits that painted the floor. He snatched up his las pistol and turned to face his next target.

The leader was holding the women he had fallen for as a hostage with a jagged looking knife at her throat and a pistol aimed at him.

"Now, now let's be civilized."

"Let her go you dirty piece of shit or I swear to the throne I'll shoot you!"

"Wouldn't you do that anyways if I let her go?" he said amused.

Annoyed by the slow moaning of the bartender he quickly put a bullet through his skull and faced Anslo again.

"Oh let's get on with it already." Said the ganger.

The two men fired their pistols. The bullet hit Anslo in the chest which narrowly missed his heart and lungs. The las bolt detonated the ganger's head in a shower of gore. In the man's death throes he spasmed, violently tearing open the girl's throat with his blade. She fell forward and he fell back. Before she hit the floor Anslo caught her and lowered her into his lap trying to stop the bleeding by covering her throat with his hands. He had seen enough war. He knew someone would die. There was a scared look in her eyes as she desperately tried to breathe gurgling blood.

"It's okay." He said hoarsely tears streaming down his cheeks.

"It'll all be alright." he told to the dying waitress.

There he sat cradling a long after she died until fellow guardsmen came and pried the kicking and screaming Anslo away from her bloodied corpse. As they dragged him away he yelled one thing.

She never told me her name.


	9. Chapter 9

"Two more days of warp space if, Emperor willing the warp currents are good to us and were there." replied Colonel Kaster.

"Any other news?" Commissar Veir asked.

"Yeah, were getting some major reinforcements."

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"The Adeptus Astarte kind."

"Shit, that is a major upgrade."

"That's not the end of it; were getting more ships and more regiments, there is no number set in stone yet though since they are still sending out requests to the munitorum."

"So what merits this need for more manpower then?"

"What else could? Those archenemy bastards."

"Have they identified anything more about the archenemies fleet?"

"Yes, Archon Zrake, and his Magister Warlord Caphra."

"Well if it isn't that frakker Caphra. I'm going to kill that damned bastard myself."

"Thought you'd say that."

"You thought right."

**Aboard the Chaos Vessel **_**Tzeentch's Will.**_

Archon Zrake stood at the bridge of his ship. His body was encased permanently in an adamantium suit of powered armor, not one of an Astarte but one of his own design; slim and at his own height not bulky and large. His armored fingers were blades, each blade had its own power field; like a miniature power sword, each so sharp that it could penetrate the armor of an Astarte. He wore a cloak of shadow that when used would hide him in darkness unseen by his enemies. His armor so light he could sprint faster than an Astarte in full sprint with ease. It fit him so tightly he was in a constant state of agony but he loved the pain, he relished. The suit was part of him, it was him.

His two traitor marine bodyguards stood beside him. They were his hands, to his right stood the Burning Hand. This minion of Chaos loved fire. His power armor was a scorched black. His entire body outside the armor was burned. For his love of flames he wrapped his armor in mutilated body parts and soaked them in promethium. In battle when he set himself ablaze it was a magnificent sight of carnage, nothing came out alive only, a mess of blackened bodies. He had a hand flamer and a heavy flamer to scorch his enemies with. The thing he loved the most was a sword of pure flame. Archon Zrake had gifted him the sword. He had created it for him when the Archon recruited him as his bodyguard. The Archon had made it using the sorceries of Tzeentch.

To the Archons left was the Rusted Hand. He was an ancient being. One of the first space marines created, and one of the first to turn to Chaos. His armor was completely rusted over making it a solid reddish brown. Even though it was impossible for adamantium and ceramite to rust, his had. Rust makes metal brittle and weak his armor wasn't, quite the opposite in fact. His weapons were ancient as well. He had a Volkite Charger: an ancient Horus Heresy era weapon that not unlike a melta put out so much heat that it could deflagrate an Astarte. He also had an ancient lightning claw. His most curious weapon though was massive hand cannon longer and heavier than bolt pistol. It was like a massive revolver except it had no barrel, the circular ammo clip was extended and made up the length. The mysterious weapon fired rods the length of the barrel. Each rod had enough stopping power that when fired it could puncture a tank.

The Archon watched his starships slowly crawl out of warp portals to group up with the rest of the fleet. These were his minions to command. He would take Agrathia for it was the key.

**Sorry this chapters so short. My brain juices have dried up. When I was deciding which Era Star wars would be in (Republic or Empire) I was (semi)-seriously considering doing it during the Galactic Empire just so we could see a SPHECE MAHRINE say "DEATH TO THE FALSE EMPEROR" and then there would be a confused Khornate berserker scratching his head confused wondering why his favorite taunt had been stolen.**

**REVIEWS ARE THE BLOOD OF THE WRITER**


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